The Journey, Book 2: Chapter 40 - Previous Chapter
Chapter 41: Rescue
Tarasque sat astride Elqiana’s broad, pearl-white back, her fingers gripping the smooth pommel of the saddle as the dragon’s wings unfurled like silk. Snowy, the were-cat, curled in her lap like a living compass, her golden eyes locked forward, ears twitching with every shift in the wind. She guided them with an uncanny certainty, her tail flicking from side to side, as though he could feel the path stretched out before them.
They flew high over the cities first, sprawling jewels of stone and light. From above, the streets looked like veins of silver, lanterns glowing even in daylight, crowds moving in endless patterns far below. Towers of marble and slate rose like spears toward the sky, their banners snapping in the wind. Marketplaces spilled with colours—canopies of red, green, and yellow—though from this height the chaos of trade became only a blur of shifting hues. The roar of countless voices blended into a hum that even the wind could not fully swallow.
Beyond the cities came the towns, smaller yet no less alive. Crooked streets twisted around central squares where fountains gleamed, and smoke curled gently from the chimneys of tiled-roof houses. Children ran along dirt paths, pointing skyward, their laughter trailing faintly upward as they glimpsed the dragon’s shadow blotting out the sun.
Settlements dotted the land between, some no more than clusters of thatched roofs and tilled fields, others fortresses of wood and stone standing sentinel over rivers and roads. Farmers paused mid-plow, shielding their eyes against the brilliance of Elqiana’s scales as she passed overhead. Shepherds called their flocks together, the animals bleating in alarm as the shadow of wings rippled across their pastures.
The land itself unfolded in vast, breathtaking sweeps of colour and texture. Green plains stretched endlessly, patched with wildflowers that painted the earth in bursts of yellow, violet, and crimson. The air grew sweeter as they crossed forests where ancient trees stood like guardians, their emerald canopies unbroken but for the flash of streams weaving through. Hawks and eagles scattered at the dragon’s passage, their cries sharp against the rush of wind.
Then came the waters—lakes shining like mirrors, reflecting the sky so perfectly it seemed as though the world had been doubled. Some were ringed by villages where fishermen pulled in nets heavy with silver-scaled catches, their boats rocking gently in the rippling blue. Rivers wound outward from these lakes, glinting like molten glass, carving their way across the land until they vanished into horizons unseen.
But the beauty of the world shifted as the mountains loomed ahead, jagged peaks tearing at the clouds. Their passage grew treacherous, snow and sleet bursting suddenly against Elqiana’s wings. The dragon’s body shuddered under the weight of the storm, her mighty wings beating fiercely as ice lashed against them. Tarasque clung tight, the wind searing her skin with cold, her cloak snapping like a torn sail around her. For a moment, it seemed the storm might drive them into the cliffs, but Elqiana forced her way upward, her roar echoing off the mountainsides until at last they burst free into the open sky.
And then—the desert.
The change was so sudden it felt like striking a wall. The bitter cold of the mountains fell away, replaced by a wave of heat so sharp it stole Tarasque’s breath. The air grew heavy, dry as bone, and the sun blazed mercilessly above them. Below, the desert stretched in an endless expanse of shifting dunes, a living ocean of gold and copper. The wind screamed across it, whipping sand into spiralling columns that lashed against Elqiana’s hide. Tarasque pulled her hood low over her face, shielding her eyes from the grit as the desert welcomed them not with silence, but with fury.
“Do you know what we’re looking for, Snowy? Where is Cartakunthor?” Tara asked, her voice half-carried away by the hot desert wind.
The were-cat stretched, weaving gracefully between the ivory spikes along Elqiana’s neck before settling atop the dragon’s head like a crown of fur and sharp eyes. In Tara’s mind, her reply came, smooth and certain as thought itself:
“Strange black smoke… and trouble. Wherever Jeremy goes, trouble follows.”
Tara’s gaze swept across the desert below. From this height, the dunes looked endless, rolling like waves of gold under the blazing sun. Yet no life stirred save for the wind. She narrowed her eyes, searching for even a flicker of movement—anything to match Snowy’s warning.
Elqiana banked sharply, her wings casting vast shadows over the sand as she circled. Tara’s heart leapt when shapes moved below, but as they descended, her hope drained. “More animals,” she groaned, frustration raw in her tone. Herds of gazelle scattered, their swift legs kicking up clouds of dust, oblivious to the watchers above.
The search dragged on, each heartbeat feeling stretched into hours beneath the merciless sky. Then, suddenly, Elqiana’s head snapped toward the horizon. Her voice rumbled in Tara’s mind, edged with urgency:
“Over there—black smoke. Rising from a hole in the ground.”
Tara followed her gaze and froze. Smoke, thick and unnatural, coiled upward like a serpent. And with it—a mass of grey. From the wound in the earth poured thousands of undgrolls, their grotesque forms spilling outward like a tide of shrivelled skinned entities wearing crude armour, waving crude weapons above their heads.
“Holy shit!” Tara gasped, clutching the ridge of Elqiana’s neck. “That’s an army of ugly things!”
Deep in the pit’s shadow, the corrupter stood cloaked in darkness, his voice like poison seeping through the air. “Find the elf woman. I want the bitch alive.”
The undgrolls howled, the sound tearing across the desert as they charged in every direction, a flood of hunger and malice unleashed.
Elsewhere, Jeremy and Dorianna crouched low, every sense straining. Jeremy had been clever, though Dorianna had not hidden her distaste, as he forced her to smear herself from head to toe with the foul, reeking mud dredged from the birthing pits. The stench clung like rot, making her gag with every breath, but it masked their scent well enough.
The two moved in silence, slipping like shadows through the cracks of the mountain’s stone. At times they pressed themselves flat into crevices or hugged the rough walls so closely they felt the scrape of rock against their skin, while undgroll patrols tramped past unaware. Each time, they held their breath, listening to leather sandals scuff against stone, hearts hammering in their throats until the danger passed.
Finally, they broke free of the pit’s reach, stumbling into the open desert. The blazing sun was almost a mercy compared to the suffocating dark behind them. They found shelter beneath a cluster of palm trees, the fronds whispering above, while massive sandstone boulders gave them further cover. From their hiding place, they could hear the distant thunder of undgrolls spilling across the sands—hunting.
In a hushed, urgent tone Jeremy tilted his head toward Dorianna. “We can’t stay here. We’ll have to run… and fight. Can you do that?”
Dorianna peered over the edge of the sandstone boulder, her sharp eyes narrowing at the chaos spreading across the desert. She knew he was right—if they stayed, they’d be pinned down. Her breath left her in a heavy sigh. “If that’s what we’ve got to do, then so be it. But it will be hard without weapons…”
Jeremy’s hand slipped to the satchel strapped across his shoulder. With practised ease he drew out two small daggers, their blades catching the sunlight like a promise. He pressed them into her hands. Dorianna felt the weight, her fingers tightening around the hilts. She nodded once, determination settling into her features. “Ready when you are.”
Jeremy glanced around the boulders, his eyes quick and calculating. “Follow me. Stay low.”
He dropped to all fours, crawling swiftly across the hot sand, each movement measured. Dorianna followed close behind, her lithe form moving silently despite the rasp of the desert winds. The sand burned against her palms, but she endured it, her eyes fixed on Jeremy’s back as they crept from dune to dune.
Suddenly, a guttural chorus of growls and snaps drew their attention. A large group of undgrolls had gathered at the base of a nearby slope. Jeremy froze, signalling Dorianna to do the same. Together they pressed against the curve of a dune, peering over its ridge.
What they saw made Dorianna’s stomach twist. The undgrolls had run down a herd of gazelle, their twisted fingers rending the creatures apart with horrifying ease. The beasts tore into flesh while it was still warm, snarling as they devoured. Some knelt low, cracking bones between their jagged teeth and sucking the marrow with grotesque slurps. Blood slicked their faces and dripped in rivulets down their chins, pooling in dark patches at their feet. The air reeked of iron and rot.
Dorianna swallowed hard, fighting the urge to recoil. Beside her, Jeremy’s expression hardened, his jaw set with grim resolve.
“I can’t see anything but grey…” Tara muttered, her eyes straining against the glare of the desert sun. She leaned forward, squinting into the horizon. “Elqi, what do they look like to you?”
The pearl dragon gave a low, thrumming hum that reverberated through Tara’s bones. In her mind, Elqiana’s voice answered with calm certainty:
“The ground is white, orange, and red. The creatures are blue… as though they have no heartbeat.”
Tara’s lips pressed together. Blue. Dead things walking, cloaked in hunger. Her thoughts spun, desperate for a way to cut through the chaos below. “The elf-woman’s aura was yellow,” she whispered to herself, then aloud: “What about Jeremy? What colour is his aura?”
Snowy’s tail flicked sharply, golden eyes narrowing in focus. “His aura is brown.”
“Good,” Tara said, determination sparking. “Then we’ll look for yellow and brown. That should make the search easier.”
Elqiana circled lower, the vast sweep of her wings scattering spirals of sand into the sky. Tara leaned over, searching the battlefield beneath them. Snowy’s body tensed suddenly, ears flat, her mental voice trembling with disgust. “They’re feeding…”
Tara followed her gaze—and recoiled. Far below, the undgrolls fell upon a herd of gazelle, tearing them open with their long, sinewy fingers. The creatures raked their prey apart, scooping hunks of flesh into their slavering mouths. Some dug into the carcasses as if clawing for treasure, cracking bones open with those skeletal hands and sucking at the marrow within. The air, even from up here, felt fouled.
Meanwhile, Jeremy and Dorianna crouched on the opposite slope of a dune, shadows stretching long in the dying light. With one last horrified glance at the feasting horde, they slid quietly down the far side, grains of sand spilling around their boots. Jeremy’s eyes darted across the horizon until they landed on a cluster of palms shimmering in the distance—an oasis, small but promising.
He pointed. “Run. Don’t look back. Just run.”
Dorianna’s chest rose and fell with ragged breaths. She met his gaze, saw the iron resolve there, and nodded. No more words were needed.
Together they sprinted, stumbling and half-falling down the shifting slope. The desert sand fought them with every step, dragging at their boots, sapping their strength. Their lungs burned, their hearts thundered in their ears. The oasis seemed miles away, shimmering like a cruel mirage, yet it was their only hope.
Behind them, one of the undgrolls froze mid-feast. Its head lifted, sinewy fingers still dripping blood, nostrils flaring wide as it caught their scent. Slowly, its skull-like face turned toward the dunes. Its hollow eyes narrowed, and with a guttural roar, it bared its teeth.
The sound cut across the desert like a blade. Nearby undgrolls jerked upright from their grisly meal, heads snapping toward the cry. One by one, they rose, hunched and twitching, and then surged into motion.
First a handful. Then dozens.
An entire pack peeled away from the feast, skeletal hands clawing through sand as they loped after the first hunter, a tide of grey bodies breaking across the dunes in pursuit.
Snowy’s head popped up over the bridge of Elqiana’s snout, her golden eyes locking onto Jeremy below. For an instant, the chaos and fire seemed to fall away. Without words, they understood each other. Jeremy gave a sharp nod, his jaw set. He seized Dorianna’s hand and pulled her with him, plunging straight into the cool water of the oasis, steam curling around them from the dragon’s fire.
Above, Elqiana’s wings faltered. Her body, mighty though it was, sagged with the strain of her breath—each plume of fire had drained her strength. Tara pressed a hand against her neck, worry flaring. “Rest, Elqi,” she whispered.
Snowy’s voice rang out then, sharp and fierce, cutting through the din: “Allow me!”
Her body blurred, shifting mid-leap. Fur rippled, bones reshaped, and in moments she stood upon Elqiana’s snout as a small, lithe, human-sized figure, though her feline essence clung to her—ears, tail, and eyes glowing with predatory fire. She beat her fists against her chest, the sound like a war-drum, before throwing her head back and loosing a piercing yowl that rattled the desert air.
The call was answered.
From every direction, shapes erupted across the dunes—sleek, fast, deadly. A sea of fur surged forward, a living tide of predators: domestic cats darting like shadows between the larger bodies of leopards, panthers, and cheetahs; striped tigers bounding with thunderous power; lions roaring as they descended in pride-driven fury. The desert itself seemed to move as the swarm converged, each beast glowing faintly with the same aura that burned in Snowy’s eyes.
Tara’s breath caught in her throat. Shock and awe warred within her as the earth shook beneath the charge.
The first clash was an explosion of sound. Hisses, roars, and the guttural howls of undgrolls collided in a cacophony that tore across the desert. Claws and teeth found sinewy flesh; silver daggers gleamed in the hands of the feline warriors, flashing arcs of light as they ripped through the horde. Undgrolls staggered and fell, overwhelmed by a storm of fangs and steel.
Snowy leapt from Elqiana’s head, landing lightly on the sand below. Her tail lashed, her ears flattened in feral rage, and with a snarl she launched herself at the nearest undgroll, her silver claws carving through its neck in a spray of ichor.
The battlefield shifted in a heartbeat. The hunters had become the hunted.
For a long, terrible minute the desert became a choir of violence. The cats were a single, merciless organism: leaping, slashing, tearing with a choreography honed by instinct and Snowy’s summons. Small domestic felines darted between undgroll legs to topple ankles; leopards and panthers struck with lightning precision, their jaws clamping around spinal cords and wrenching; tigers and lions smashed into ranks like living battering rams, teeth and claws finding tendons and throat. Silvered daggers flashed in paws and hands — quick, surgical strikes that opened bellies and severed windpipes before the creatures could react.
The undgrolls fought back in a flurry of long, sinewy fingers, grasping and ripping where they could, but their movements were clumsy against the felines’ speed. Where an undgroll thought to seize, a panther already closed its jaws; where it tried to bite, a tiger’s paw came down and twisted. The sand drank ichor and blood until the dune’s golden slope looked mottled and dark. Hisses and roars overlapped with the wet, horrible sounds of flesh tearing. For all the horror, there was an eerie economy to the assault: the cats struck, withdrew, and struck again, never giving the undgrolls time to regroup.
At last, the tide of grey began to break. One flank collapsed, then another. Undgrolls staggered, then bolted—first in driblets, then in a screaming flood—as the felines poured after them, a vengeful smear across the dunes. The chase thinned the mob; bodies were left to grind into the sand. The desert heaved with the sound of stampeding paws and the echo of distant snarls as the cats hunted the fleeing shadows over the horizon.
Elqiana landed with the low, reverberating thud of a sleeping mountain easing itself down. She settled into the shallow water of the oasis with a soft, almost exhausted grace, her great head bowing as she lapped—white tongue sweeping the surface, sending rings across the steaming pool. Steam curled from the water where dragon-fire had kissed it, and the air smelled of scorched palm and wet fur.
Snowy streaked through the burnt fronds, fur going from singed to sleek in a blink as she shifted back into cat form. She bounded across the wet sand and, as if gravity and time had both loosened, launched herself into Dorianna’s waiting arms. The elf woman caught her as the world blurred: a small, soaked bundle of purring heat and claws. Dorianna pressed the were-cat to her chest, fingers carding through fur, and for a stunned heartbeat the desert’s fury fell away beneath an impossible tenderness — the first open affection any of them had ever seen between a were-cat and a person. Snowy purred into Dorianna’s neck, softer than anyone expected, a small, hoarse sound that steadied a trembling heart.
“There’s no time to waste,” Tara said loudly as Elqiana lifted her head. Her wings flexed, muscles knotting as she readied herself for the next strain. Tara moved without thinking: she offered a steady hand to Dorianna and hauled her, sodden and small, up onto Elqiana’s saddle behind the dragon’s shoulder. Snowy scrambled back up to take her old place on the dragon’s head, ears twitching, eyes bright. In a blink, Jeremy leapt from the oasis bank and folded himself into Tara’s lap — cat form again, soaked and exhaling a short, embarrassed chirp.
“Sorry about the smell… and the mess,” Jeremy muttered sheepishly, tail twitching as he tried to settle.
Tara snorted, half-laughing through the grime and adrenaline. “You’re alive,” she said, which in that moment was the only apology either of them needed.
With powerful beats, Elqiana rose. Sand gusted in spirals beneath her wings, steam drifting from the oasis like the last breath of a fever. Once they’d climbed high enough to clear the wreckage below, Snowy let out a piercing whale of a whistle — bright, commanding. At the sound, the scattered felines that remained on the dunes paused, then dispersed into every direction as if taking orders: some sprinted inland, others melted into rocky washes, a few slunk toward distant oases. The call severed the bond of the hunt with a single sharp note.
Below, the corrupter’s voice shredded the air — raw, amplified by the pit like a bellows. It rose in a howl that made the sand tremble: “I’m going to find you, and kill you, you bitch!” His words rang off the scorched trunks and boiling water, the promise of vengeance echoing up to the dragon’s soaring height.
Tara’s grip tightened on Elqiana’s scales. Snowy’s ears flattened, pupils narrowing to coin-slits. Dorianna folded her arms around her chest, eyes flashing with fury rather than fear. Jeremy’s small form bristled against Tara’s chest.
Elqiana answered not with words but with a slow, deliberate beat of her wings, a motion that said she had heard, and that they were not finished yet.
The cave smelled faintly of stone and water, a grounding contrast to the acrid smoke and blood of the desert. Tara knelt by the fire, turning the small blaze with a stick and letting its warmth brush against her chilled hands. Beside her, Dorianna shed her soaked tunic, wringing it out before changing into the clothes Tara had laid on the rock. The elf-woman moved with quiet, careful grace, though her movements were stiff from exhaustion and bruises.
Jeremy lingered at the water’s edge, letting the cool lake wash over his arms and hands, scrubbing away dust, blood, and the grime of the desert chase. When he returned, the scent of iron and sand gone, he settled cross-legged on a rock, rubbing at shallow scratches along his forearms. Dorianna leaned over with a small cloth, dampened from the lake, dabbing at deeper cuts. She worked quickly but gently, her hands steady despite the faint tremor of adrenaline still coursing through her veins.
“Little more and we’ll be ready,” Tara said softly, offering a small smile. “You’ve both done more than most could manage today.”
Dorianna’s lips twitched into a faint grin. “I think I’m done with chasing undgrolls for a while.”
Jeremy snorted. “Yeah, let’s not do that again anytime soon.”
Above them, the soft rustle of wings heralded Elqiana’s return. Tara’s head lifted just in time to see her shining white form appear between the peaks, skimming low over the lake before touching down with effortless grace. Moments later, the dragon emerged from the opposite shore, carrying a large stag in her jaws. Water splashed around her as she settled, and then, with careful precision, she laid the animal near the fire.
Elqiana shifted and blew a hot breath across the meat, the edges sizzling as the heat roasted the stag perfectly over the small blaze Tara had prepared. Steam curled from the tender flesh, carrying the rich, savoury aroma across the cave. The dragon clambered out onto the shore, shook her wings, and glanced back at Tara with luminous eyes — a silent signal that the hunt was complete, and the meal was ready.
Tara rose and approached, cutting herself a portion of the roasted meat. The smell alone made her stomach clench with hunger. Dorianna followed suit, taking a smaller cut and savouring the warm, tender meat after hours of stress and flight. Jeremy tore off a hunk for himself, teeth sinking into the roasted flesh with grim satisfaction. Snowy padded between them, ears flicking as she delicately nibbled on her portion, the heat of the fire keeping her warm as he ate.
Between bites, Dorianna inspected her minor cuts, bandaging where necessary with strips of cloth pulled from their packs. Jeremy did the same for his own scratches, muttering occasional complaints under his breath about the sting of salt and blood. The fire crackled, small embers floating lazily upward, while the lake mirrored the mountain peaks, still and glassy.
Once fed, they leaned back on rocks, breathing in the scent of wet stone, fire, and the faint musk of Elqiana’s hide. The dragon stretched her wings once, then sank into a low crouch, her head resting near the fire, eyes half-lidded as she listened to the steady rhythm of their breathing.
Tara’s fingers drifted over the dragon’s scales, tracing the ridges along her neck, feeling warmth return through the ivory-white surface. Snowy curled against Dorianna’s side, purring softly as if claiming her. For the first time in days, they allowed themselves to relax fully, letting the quiet of the mountain hideaway wash over the tension still lingering in their bodies.
Yet even in this moment of calm, the memory of the corrupter’s scream echoed faintly through the peaks. They rested, ate, and tended their wounds, knowing instinctively that the battle was far from over, but for now, they had strength, warmth, and the watchful presence of a dragon who had seen them through hell and back.
Tara watched Snowy nuzzle up against Dorianna, the were-cat’s purring vibrating softly as the elf-woman scratched behind her ears. “I’ve never seen a were-cat this affectionate with a two-legs before,” Tara remarked, her voice gentle, curious.
Dorianna smiled faintly, her fingers lingering in Snowy’s fur. “Me and Snowy go back a long way… a very long way,” she said, her tone soft but firm. “We have a close bond—just like you and the dragon.”
Tara nodded, glancing over at Elqiana, who lay stretched near the fire, her white scales catching the flicker of the flames, breathing steady and deep in sleep. There was an understanding in the moment, a quiet acknowledgement of the bonds that tied them all together.
Dorianna hesitated, then asked cautiously, “Tivor and Vivi… they’re okay?”
Tara bit the inside of her lip, the question tugging at memories. Slowly, she answered, her voice even but careful. “My father and my uncle are okay. They were in Caa Alora the last I saw them.”
Dorianna’s brow arched slightly. “Your father… does that mean it was you who discovered my name?”
Tara shook her head, eyes flicking toward the sleeping dragon before settling back on Dorianna. “Not me,” she said softly. “It was Nekira… formerly known as Nekonata.”
Dorianna’s voice fell to a whisper, almost as if saying it aloud made it real. “No-name…”
The cave seemed to still around them. Outside, the lake mirrored the mountain peaks, calm and untroubled, yet beneath the quiet, both women felt the weight of the journey still pressing on their shoulders, the battles fought, the ones yet to come, and the tangled histories that had just begun to unravel.
“Who is your father?” Dorianna asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper, as if the walls of the cave itself might listen. “Is it Tivor?”
Tara nodded, her gaze drifting toward the sleeping dragon. “My name is Tarasque… Tara for short. And this is Elqiana,” she added, motioning to the white dragon, who lay coiled near the fire, scales gleaming softly in the flickering light.
“It’s nice to meet you, Tara,” Dorianna said, her tone careful but warm. “Now that I’ve spoken it, you should be able to remember it.”
Tara smiled faintly and sounded Dorianna’s name aloud. “Yes… I remember it.” She paused, then asked softly, “Why did you hide your name?”
Dorianna took a deep breath, her eyes darkening with the memory. “I was one of those who refused Matthious’s advances. He knew about my family, but he still insisted on claiming me as his own. By then, he was deep in the cult, forcing everyone to obey his commands… to shed their auras into some rock, so he could harvest them for himself. Once he’d gained incredible power, he began sorting through what he called the ‘pure blood’ families, believing it would increase his strength. So many of us hid our names, Tara… to protect our families, to protect those we loved.”
Tara’s eyes welled with tears, a lump forming in her throat. “That… must have been hard,” she whispered, reaching out but stopping herself, unsure if comfort could touch wounds that ran so deep.
Dorianna nodded, a faint, tired smile brushing her lips. “It was. But… we survived. That’s what matters now.”
For the next few hours, the two women talked quietly, voices mingling with the soft crackle of the fire and the distant lap of water from the lake. They shared memories, fears, and quiet reassurances, letting the weight of the day slowly ease from their shoulders. Eventually, sleep crept in gently, pulling them under one by one.
Hours later, a subtle shift stirred the cave. Tara awoke to the gentle pulse of presence beside her. In her mind, Elqiana’s voice drifted softly, comforting and calm:
'Little one… it’s time to be on our way.'
Tara stretched, blinking against the soft light of dawn filtering through the cave entrance. Around her, the mountain lake shimmered, and the forest of peaks awaited, calling them onward. Sleep had refreshed them, but the journey was far from over.
Chapter 41: Rescue
Tarasque sat astride Elqiana’s broad, pearl-white back, her fingers gripping the smooth pommel of the saddle as the dragon’s wings unfurled like silk. Snowy, the were-cat, curled in her lap like a living compass, her golden eyes locked forward, ears twitching with every shift in the wind. She guided them with an uncanny certainty, her tail flicking from side to side, as though he could feel the path stretched out before them.
They flew high over the cities first, sprawling jewels of stone and light. From above, the streets looked like veins of silver, lanterns glowing even in daylight, crowds moving in endless patterns far below. Towers of marble and slate rose like spears toward the sky, their banners snapping in the wind. Marketplaces spilled with colours—canopies of red, green, and yellow—though from this height the chaos of trade became only a blur of shifting hues. The roar of countless voices blended into a hum that even the wind could not fully swallow.
Beyond the cities came the towns, smaller yet no less alive. Crooked streets twisted around central squares where fountains gleamed, and smoke curled gently from the chimneys of tiled-roof houses. Children ran along dirt paths, pointing skyward, their laughter trailing faintly upward as they glimpsed the dragon’s shadow blotting out the sun.
Settlements dotted the land between, some no more than clusters of thatched roofs and tilled fields, others fortresses of wood and stone standing sentinel over rivers and roads. Farmers paused mid-plow, shielding their eyes against the brilliance of Elqiana’s scales as she passed overhead. Shepherds called their flocks together, the animals bleating in alarm as the shadow of wings rippled across their pastures.
The land itself unfolded in vast, breathtaking sweeps of colour and texture. Green plains stretched endlessly, patched with wildflowers that painted the earth in bursts of yellow, violet, and crimson. The air grew sweeter as they crossed forests where ancient trees stood like guardians, their emerald canopies unbroken but for the flash of streams weaving through. Hawks and eagles scattered at the dragon’s passage, their cries sharp against the rush of wind.
Then came the waters—lakes shining like mirrors, reflecting the sky so perfectly it seemed as though the world had been doubled. Some were ringed by villages where fishermen pulled in nets heavy with silver-scaled catches, their boats rocking gently in the rippling blue. Rivers wound outward from these lakes, glinting like molten glass, carving their way across the land until they vanished into horizons unseen.
But the beauty of the world shifted as the mountains loomed ahead, jagged peaks tearing at the clouds. Their passage grew treacherous, snow and sleet bursting suddenly against Elqiana’s wings. The dragon’s body shuddered under the weight of the storm, her mighty wings beating fiercely as ice lashed against them. Tarasque clung tight, the wind searing her skin with cold, her cloak snapping like a torn sail around her. For a moment, it seemed the storm might drive them into the cliffs, but Elqiana forced her way upward, her roar echoing off the mountainsides until at last they burst free into the open sky.
And then—the desert.
The change was so sudden it felt like striking a wall. The bitter cold of the mountains fell away, replaced by a wave of heat so sharp it stole Tarasque’s breath. The air grew heavy, dry as bone, and the sun blazed mercilessly above them. Below, the desert stretched in an endless expanse of shifting dunes, a living ocean of gold and copper. The wind screamed across it, whipping sand into spiralling columns that lashed against Elqiana’s hide. Tarasque pulled her hood low over her face, shielding her eyes from the grit as the desert welcomed them not with silence, but with fury.
“Do you know what we’re looking for, Snowy? Where is Cartakunthor?” Tara asked, her voice half-carried away by the hot desert wind.
The were-cat stretched, weaving gracefully between the ivory spikes along Elqiana’s neck before settling atop the dragon’s head like a crown of fur and sharp eyes. In Tara’s mind, her reply came, smooth and certain as thought itself:
“Strange black smoke… and trouble. Wherever Jeremy goes, trouble follows.”
Tara’s gaze swept across the desert below. From this height, the dunes looked endless, rolling like waves of gold under the blazing sun. Yet no life stirred save for the wind. She narrowed her eyes, searching for even a flicker of movement—anything to match Snowy’s warning.
Elqiana banked sharply, her wings casting vast shadows over the sand as she circled. Tara’s heart leapt when shapes moved below, but as they descended, her hope drained. “More animals,” she groaned, frustration raw in her tone. Herds of gazelle scattered, their swift legs kicking up clouds of dust, oblivious to the watchers above.
The search dragged on, each heartbeat feeling stretched into hours beneath the merciless sky. Then, suddenly, Elqiana’s head snapped toward the horizon. Her voice rumbled in Tara’s mind, edged with urgency:
“Over there—black smoke. Rising from a hole in the ground.”
Tara followed her gaze and froze. Smoke, thick and unnatural, coiled upward like a serpent. And with it—a mass of grey. From the wound in the earth poured thousands of undgrolls, their grotesque forms spilling outward like a tide of shrivelled skinned entities wearing crude armour, waving crude weapons above their heads.
“Holy shit!” Tara gasped, clutching the ridge of Elqiana’s neck. “That’s an army of ugly things!”
Deep in the pit’s shadow, the corrupter stood cloaked in darkness, his voice like poison seeping through the air. “Find the elf woman. I want the bitch alive.”
The undgrolls howled, the sound tearing across the desert as they charged in every direction, a flood of hunger and malice unleashed.
Elsewhere, Jeremy and Dorianna crouched low, every sense straining. Jeremy had been clever, though Dorianna had not hidden her distaste, as he forced her to smear herself from head to toe with the foul, reeking mud dredged from the birthing pits. The stench clung like rot, making her gag with every breath, but it masked their scent well enough.
The two moved in silence, slipping like shadows through the cracks of the mountain’s stone. At times they pressed themselves flat into crevices or hugged the rough walls so closely they felt the scrape of rock against their skin, while undgroll patrols tramped past unaware. Each time, they held their breath, listening to leather sandals scuff against stone, hearts hammering in their throats until the danger passed.
Finally, they broke free of the pit’s reach, stumbling into the open desert. The blazing sun was almost a mercy compared to the suffocating dark behind them. They found shelter beneath a cluster of palm trees, the fronds whispering above, while massive sandstone boulders gave them further cover. From their hiding place, they could hear the distant thunder of undgrolls spilling across the sands—hunting.
In a hushed, urgent tone Jeremy tilted his head toward Dorianna. “We can’t stay here. We’ll have to run… and fight. Can you do that?”
Dorianna peered over the edge of the sandstone boulder, her sharp eyes narrowing at the chaos spreading across the desert. She knew he was right—if they stayed, they’d be pinned down. Her breath left her in a heavy sigh. “If that’s what we’ve got to do, then so be it. But it will be hard without weapons…”
Jeremy’s hand slipped to the satchel strapped across his shoulder. With practised ease he drew out two small daggers, their blades catching the sunlight like a promise. He pressed them into her hands. Dorianna felt the weight, her fingers tightening around the hilts. She nodded once, determination settling into her features. “Ready when you are.”
Jeremy glanced around the boulders, his eyes quick and calculating. “Follow me. Stay low.”
He dropped to all fours, crawling swiftly across the hot sand, each movement measured. Dorianna followed close behind, her lithe form moving silently despite the rasp of the desert winds. The sand burned against her palms, but she endured it, her eyes fixed on Jeremy’s back as they crept from dune to dune.
Suddenly, a guttural chorus of growls and snaps drew their attention. A large group of undgrolls had gathered at the base of a nearby slope. Jeremy froze, signalling Dorianna to do the same. Together they pressed against the curve of a dune, peering over its ridge.
What they saw made Dorianna’s stomach twist. The undgrolls had run down a herd of gazelle, their twisted fingers rending the creatures apart with horrifying ease. The beasts tore into flesh while it was still warm, snarling as they devoured. Some knelt low, cracking bones between their jagged teeth and sucking the marrow with grotesque slurps. Blood slicked their faces and dripped in rivulets down their chins, pooling in dark patches at their feet. The air reeked of iron and rot.
Dorianna swallowed hard, fighting the urge to recoil. Beside her, Jeremy’s expression hardened, his jaw set with grim resolve.
“I can’t see anything but grey…” Tara muttered, her eyes straining against the glare of the desert sun. She leaned forward, squinting into the horizon. “Elqi, what do they look like to you?”
The pearl dragon gave a low, thrumming hum that reverberated through Tara’s bones. In her mind, Elqiana’s voice answered with calm certainty:
“The ground is white, orange, and red. The creatures are blue… as though they have no heartbeat.”
Tara’s lips pressed together. Blue. Dead things walking, cloaked in hunger. Her thoughts spun, desperate for a way to cut through the chaos below. “The elf-woman’s aura was yellow,” she whispered to herself, then aloud: “What about Jeremy? What colour is his aura?”
Snowy’s tail flicked sharply, golden eyes narrowing in focus. “His aura is brown.”
“Good,” Tara said, determination sparking. “Then we’ll look for yellow and brown. That should make the search easier.”
Elqiana circled lower, the vast sweep of her wings scattering spirals of sand into the sky. Tara leaned over, searching the battlefield beneath them. Snowy’s body tensed suddenly, ears flat, her mental voice trembling with disgust. “They’re feeding…”
Tara followed her gaze—and recoiled. Far below, the undgrolls fell upon a herd of gazelle, tearing them open with their long, sinewy fingers. The creatures raked their prey apart, scooping hunks of flesh into their slavering mouths. Some dug into the carcasses as if clawing for treasure, cracking bones open with those skeletal hands and sucking at the marrow within. The air, even from up here, felt fouled.
Meanwhile, Jeremy and Dorianna crouched on the opposite slope of a dune, shadows stretching long in the dying light. With one last horrified glance at the feasting horde, they slid quietly down the far side, grains of sand spilling around their boots. Jeremy’s eyes darted across the horizon until they landed on a cluster of palms shimmering in the distance—an oasis, small but promising.
He pointed. “Run. Don’t look back. Just run.”
Dorianna’s chest rose and fell with ragged breaths. She met his gaze, saw the iron resolve there, and nodded. No more words were needed.
Together they sprinted, stumbling and half-falling down the shifting slope. The desert sand fought them with every step, dragging at their boots, sapping their strength. Their lungs burned, their hearts thundered in their ears. The oasis seemed miles away, shimmering like a cruel mirage, yet it was their only hope.
Behind them, one of the undgrolls froze mid-feast. Its head lifted, sinewy fingers still dripping blood, nostrils flaring wide as it caught their scent. Slowly, its skull-like face turned toward the dunes. Its hollow eyes narrowed, and with a guttural roar, it bared its teeth.
The sound cut across the desert like a blade. Nearby undgrolls jerked upright from their grisly meal, heads snapping toward the cry. One by one, they rose, hunched and twitching, and then surged into motion.
First a handful. Then dozens.
An entire pack peeled away from the feast, skeletal hands clawing through sand as they loped after the first hunter, a tide of grey bodies breaking across the dunes in pursuit.
Snowy’s head popped up over the bridge of Elqiana’s snout, her golden eyes locking onto Jeremy below. For an instant, the chaos and fire seemed to fall away. Without words, they understood each other. Jeremy gave a sharp nod, his jaw set. He seized Dorianna’s hand and pulled her with him, plunging straight into the cool water of the oasis, steam curling around them from the dragon’s fire.
Above, Elqiana’s wings faltered. Her body, mighty though it was, sagged with the strain of her breath—each plume of fire had drained her strength. Tara pressed a hand against her neck, worry flaring. “Rest, Elqi,” she whispered.
Snowy’s voice rang out then, sharp and fierce, cutting through the din: “Allow me!”
Her body blurred, shifting mid-leap. Fur rippled, bones reshaped, and in moments she stood upon Elqiana’s snout as a small, lithe, human-sized figure, though her feline essence clung to her—ears, tail, and eyes glowing with predatory fire. She beat her fists against her chest, the sound like a war-drum, before throwing her head back and loosing a piercing yowl that rattled the desert air.
The call was answered.
From every direction, shapes erupted across the dunes—sleek, fast, deadly. A sea of fur surged forward, a living tide of predators: domestic cats darting like shadows between the larger bodies of leopards, panthers, and cheetahs; striped tigers bounding with thunderous power; lions roaring as they descended in pride-driven fury. The desert itself seemed to move as the swarm converged, each beast glowing faintly with the same aura that burned in Snowy’s eyes.
Tara’s breath caught in her throat. Shock and awe warred within her as the earth shook beneath the charge.
The first clash was an explosion of sound. Hisses, roars, and the guttural howls of undgrolls collided in a cacophony that tore across the desert. Claws and teeth found sinewy flesh; silver daggers gleamed in the hands of the feline warriors, flashing arcs of light as they ripped through the horde. Undgrolls staggered and fell, overwhelmed by a storm of fangs and steel.
Snowy leapt from Elqiana’s head, landing lightly on the sand below. Her tail lashed, her ears flattened in feral rage, and with a snarl she launched herself at the nearest undgroll, her silver claws carving through its neck in a spray of ichor.
The battlefield shifted in a heartbeat. The hunters had become the hunted.
For a long, terrible minute the desert became a choir of violence. The cats were a single, merciless organism: leaping, slashing, tearing with a choreography honed by instinct and Snowy’s summons. Small domestic felines darted between undgroll legs to topple ankles; leopards and panthers struck with lightning precision, their jaws clamping around spinal cords and wrenching; tigers and lions smashed into ranks like living battering rams, teeth and claws finding tendons and throat. Silvered daggers flashed in paws and hands — quick, surgical strikes that opened bellies and severed windpipes before the creatures could react.
The undgrolls fought back in a flurry of long, sinewy fingers, grasping and ripping where they could, but their movements were clumsy against the felines’ speed. Where an undgroll thought to seize, a panther already closed its jaws; where it tried to bite, a tiger’s paw came down and twisted. The sand drank ichor and blood until the dune’s golden slope looked mottled and dark. Hisses and roars overlapped with the wet, horrible sounds of flesh tearing. For all the horror, there was an eerie economy to the assault: the cats struck, withdrew, and struck again, never giving the undgrolls time to regroup.
At last, the tide of grey began to break. One flank collapsed, then another. Undgrolls staggered, then bolted—first in driblets, then in a screaming flood—as the felines poured after them, a vengeful smear across the dunes. The chase thinned the mob; bodies were left to grind into the sand. The desert heaved with the sound of stampeding paws and the echo of distant snarls as the cats hunted the fleeing shadows over the horizon.
Elqiana landed with the low, reverberating thud of a sleeping mountain easing itself down. She settled into the shallow water of the oasis with a soft, almost exhausted grace, her great head bowing as she lapped—white tongue sweeping the surface, sending rings across the steaming pool. Steam curled from the water where dragon-fire had kissed it, and the air smelled of scorched palm and wet fur.
Snowy streaked through the burnt fronds, fur going from singed to sleek in a blink as she shifted back into cat form. She bounded across the wet sand and, as if gravity and time had both loosened, launched herself into Dorianna’s waiting arms. The elf woman caught her as the world blurred: a small, soaked bundle of purring heat and claws. Dorianna pressed the were-cat to her chest, fingers carding through fur, and for a stunned heartbeat the desert’s fury fell away beneath an impossible tenderness — the first open affection any of them had ever seen between a were-cat and a person. Snowy purred into Dorianna’s neck, softer than anyone expected, a small, hoarse sound that steadied a trembling heart.
“There’s no time to waste,” Tara said loudly as Elqiana lifted her head. Her wings flexed, muscles knotting as she readied herself for the next strain. Tara moved without thinking: she offered a steady hand to Dorianna and hauled her, sodden and small, up onto Elqiana’s saddle behind the dragon’s shoulder. Snowy scrambled back up to take her old place on the dragon’s head, ears twitching, eyes bright. In a blink, Jeremy leapt from the oasis bank and folded himself into Tara’s lap — cat form again, soaked and exhaling a short, embarrassed chirp.
“Sorry about the smell… and the mess,” Jeremy muttered sheepishly, tail twitching as he tried to settle.
Tara snorted, half-laughing through the grime and adrenaline. “You’re alive,” she said, which in that moment was the only apology either of them needed.
With powerful beats, Elqiana rose. Sand gusted in spirals beneath her wings, steam drifting from the oasis like the last breath of a fever. Once they’d climbed high enough to clear the wreckage below, Snowy let out a piercing whale of a whistle — bright, commanding. At the sound, the scattered felines that remained on the dunes paused, then dispersed into every direction as if taking orders: some sprinted inland, others melted into rocky washes, a few slunk toward distant oases. The call severed the bond of the hunt with a single sharp note.
Below, the corrupter’s voice shredded the air — raw, amplified by the pit like a bellows. It rose in a howl that made the sand tremble: “I’m going to find you, and kill you, you bitch!” His words rang off the scorched trunks and boiling water, the promise of vengeance echoing up to the dragon’s soaring height.
Tara’s grip tightened on Elqiana’s scales. Snowy’s ears flattened, pupils narrowing to coin-slits. Dorianna folded her arms around her chest, eyes flashing with fury rather than fear. Jeremy’s small form bristled against Tara’s chest.
Elqiana answered not with words but with a slow, deliberate beat of her wings, a motion that said she had heard, and that they were not finished yet.
The cave smelled faintly of stone and water, a grounding contrast to the acrid smoke and blood of the desert. Tara knelt by the fire, turning the small blaze with a stick and letting its warmth brush against her chilled hands. Beside her, Dorianna shed her soaked tunic, wringing it out before changing into the clothes Tara had laid on the rock. The elf-woman moved with quiet, careful grace, though her movements were stiff from exhaustion and bruises.
Jeremy lingered at the water’s edge, letting the cool lake wash over his arms and hands, scrubbing away dust, blood, and the grime of the desert chase. When he returned, the scent of iron and sand gone, he settled cross-legged on a rock, rubbing at shallow scratches along his forearms. Dorianna leaned over with a small cloth, dampened from the lake, dabbing at deeper cuts. She worked quickly but gently, her hands steady despite the faint tremor of adrenaline still coursing through her veins.
“Little more and we’ll be ready,” Tara said softly, offering a small smile. “You’ve both done more than most could manage today.”
Dorianna’s lips twitched into a faint grin. “I think I’m done with chasing undgrolls for a while.”
Jeremy snorted. “Yeah, let’s not do that again anytime soon.”
Above them, the soft rustle of wings heralded Elqiana’s return. Tara’s head lifted just in time to see her shining white form appear between the peaks, skimming low over the lake before touching down with effortless grace. Moments later, the dragon emerged from the opposite shore, carrying a large stag in her jaws. Water splashed around her as she settled, and then, with careful precision, she laid the animal near the fire.
Elqiana shifted and blew a hot breath across the meat, the edges sizzling as the heat roasted the stag perfectly over the small blaze Tara had prepared. Steam curled from the tender flesh, carrying the rich, savoury aroma across the cave. The dragon clambered out onto the shore, shook her wings, and glanced back at Tara with luminous eyes — a silent signal that the hunt was complete, and the meal was ready.
Tara rose and approached, cutting herself a portion of the roasted meat. The smell alone made her stomach clench with hunger. Dorianna followed suit, taking a smaller cut and savouring the warm, tender meat after hours of stress and flight. Jeremy tore off a hunk for himself, teeth sinking into the roasted flesh with grim satisfaction. Snowy padded between them, ears flicking as she delicately nibbled on her portion, the heat of the fire keeping her warm as he ate.
Between bites, Dorianna inspected her minor cuts, bandaging where necessary with strips of cloth pulled from their packs. Jeremy did the same for his own scratches, muttering occasional complaints under his breath about the sting of salt and blood. The fire crackled, small embers floating lazily upward, while the lake mirrored the mountain peaks, still and glassy.
Once fed, they leaned back on rocks, breathing in the scent of wet stone, fire, and the faint musk of Elqiana’s hide. The dragon stretched her wings once, then sank into a low crouch, her head resting near the fire, eyes half-lidded as she listened to the steady rhythm of their breathing.
Tara’s fingers drifted over the dragon’s scales, tracing the ridges along her neck, feeling warmth return through the ivory-white surface. Snowy curled against Dorianna’s side, purring softly as if claiming her. For the first time in days, they allowed themselves to relax fully, letting the quiet of the mountain hideaway wash over the tension still lingering in their bodies.
Yet even in this moment of calm, the memory of the corrupter’s scream echoed faintly through the peaks. They rested, ate, and tended their wounds, knowing instinctively that the battle was far from over, but for now, they had strength, warmth, and the watchful presence of a dragon who had seen them through hell and back.
Tara watched Snowy nuzzle up against Dorianna, the were-cat’s purring vibrating softly as the elf-woman scratched behind her ears. “I’ve never seen a were-cat this affectionate with a two-legs before,” Tara remarked, her voice gentle, curious.
Dorianna smiled faintly, her fingers lingering in Snowy’s fur. “Me and Snowy go back a long way… a very long way,” she said, her tone soft but firm. “We have a close bond—just like you and the dragon.”
Tara nodded, glancing over at Elqiana, who lay stretched near the fire, her white scales catching the flicker of the flames, breathing steady and deep in sleep. There was an understanding in the moment, a quiet acknowledgement of the bonds that tied them all together.
Dorianna hesitated, then asked cautiously, “Tivor and Vivi… they’re okay?”
Tara bit the inside of her lip, the question tugging at memories. Slowly, she answered, her voice even but careful. “My father and my uncle are okay. They were in Caa Alora the last I saw them.”
Dorianna’s brow arched slightly. “Your father… does that mean it was you who discovered my name?”
Tara shook her head, eyes flicking toward the sleeping dragon before settling back on Dorianna. “Not me,” she said softly. “It was Nekira… formerly known as Nekonata.”
Dorianna’s voice fell to a whisper, almost as if saying it aloud made it real. “No-name…”
The cave seemed to still around them. Outside, the lake mirrored the mountain peaks, calm and untroubled, yet beneath the quiet, both women felt the weight of the journey still pressing on their shoulders, the battles fought, the ones yet to come, and the tangled histories that had just begun to unravel.
“Who is your father?” Dorianna asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper, as if the walls of the cave itself might listen. “Is it Tivor?”
Tara nodded, her gaze drifting toward the sleeping dragon. “My name is Tarasque… Tara for short. And this is Elqiana,” she added, motioning to the white dragon, who lay coiled near the fire, scales gleaming softly in the flickering light.
“It’s nice to meet you, Tara,” Dorianna said, her tone careful but warm. “Now that I’ve spoken it, you should be able to remember it.”
Tara smiled faintly and sounded Dorianna’s name aloud. “Yes… I remember it.” She paused, then asked softly, “Why did you hide your name?”
Dorianna took a deep breath, her eyes darkening with the memory. “I was one of those who refused Matthious’s advances. He knew about my family, but he still insisted on claiming me as his own. By then, he was deep in the cult, forcing everyone to obey his commands… to shed their auras into some rock, so he could harvest them for himself. Once he’d gained incredible power, he began sorting through what he called the ‘pure blood’ families, believing it would increase his strength. So many of us hid our names, Tara… to protect our families, to protect those we loved.”
Tara’s eyes welled with tears, a lump forming in her throat. “That… must have been hard,” she whispered, reaching out but stopping herself, unsure if comfort could touch wounds that ran so deep.
Dorianna nodded, a faint, tired smile brushing her lips. “It was. But… we survived. That’s what matters now.”
For the next few hours, the two women talked quietly, voices mingling with the soft crackle of the fire and the distant lap of water from the lake. They shared memories, fears, and quiet reassurances, letting the weight of the day slowly ease from their shoulders. Eventually, sleep crept in gently, pulling them under one by one.
Hours later, a subtle shift stirred the cave. Tara awoke to the gentle pulse of presence beside her. In her mind, Elqiana’s voice drifted softly, comforting and calm:
'Little one… it’s time to be on our way.'
Tara stretched, blinking against the soft light of dawn filtering through the cave entrance. Around her, the mountain lake shimmered, and the forest of peaks awaited, calling them onward. Sleep had refreshed them, but the journey was far from over.
